Chąŕnǟmë and the Djinn
by Late to the Party
Summary: This particular Charname isn't about to release a certain Djinn's flask without first striking a deal. One-shot. Part II of the 'Woulda-Coulda-Shoulda' Series.


** A/N: I had fun with this. A random 4am thought that developed into a ten minute one-shot. I make no apologies! I hope you all enjoy it too!  
Also, I don't own any of the characters (other than the protagonist), etc, etc, etc. If I did, it wouldn't exactly be 'fanfiction' now would it? **

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Surrounded by the whirling winds and towering sails, Chąŕnǟmë stood before the djinn, having retrieved its flask from the dryads, a flask to which it was bound, he paused to consider the ramifications of the djinn's words. As he mused, he held the little glass vessel up and twisted it this way and that, allowing the odd light from the nebulous clouds to pierce its purple and blue.

The djinn began to shift, as if somehow aware that Chąŕnǟmë not only had the power to shatter it, but also to consume it. Not that physically eating it would do much more than slice up his mouth, but given his 'potential', he could quite probably devour it with his deceased sire's power and that would surely spell all sorts of unpleasantness for the djinn who supposedly occupied it. Or perhaps, Chąŕnǟmë's inner monologue rambled, it would be accurate to say 'anchored', an anchor point in this plane of existence, perhaps tethering the djinn's life-force.

Chąŕnǟmë's eyes snapped back to the djinn. "If I understand you correctly, you cannot cause any harm to my former captor, nor my 'siblings', directly or indirectly, and you cannot summon more djinn for me, as that falls under 'wishing for wishes', correct?"

The djinn nodded, its eyes drifting to one side.

"But what is, or rather was, associated with me is within your remit? Were I to barter this flask of yours in exchange for, shall we say, my companions, my personal effects – those I had before being brought here – and were you to set me, my companions, and said personal effects within a place of my choosing, that would be an even trade, correct?"

"That is not how–"

"Ah but it is, for we are, I believe, in what is commonly understood as 'negotiations', commerce, yes? You have something I desire; I have something you need – and should we find ourselves at an impasse, yours is the greater loss, no? There, exactly; you see, we are able to engage in trade. It is not really so hard to acquiesce, surely? For you understand that the dryads' also granted this flask of yours in exchange for a promise: that their acorns be planted elsewhere.

"I think, perhaps, I shall modify these terms somewhat, as you are reluctant to oblige: my captor, this Irenicus, these possessions of his in this lair: you shall have them accompany me, along with all of his research findings, journals, and notebooks. What's that, you can't? Oh, but you can, as this place is currently under siege. I commandeer it – that is the phrase for salvaging, I think, yes. As to where I should like to travel, well, that is a little trickier. You know, my memory is just a little fuzzy. I seem to recall reading a tome within Candlekeep, my former home, a tome that is now lost to me but at one time, was within my possession – a tome concerning the prophecies of Alaundo, as they apparently pertain to me. Where is it exactly I must go? Some city south of Candlekeep? This is very trying. No, I don't expect you to have the answers I need, but perhaps another… do you know, I think I have it. That lady I met on the night Gorion was slain, oh heavens, what was her name again, my 'brother's' consort… Tam… someone or other. You do know of whom I speak?"

The djinn gave no reply.

"Oko, Okie… Tomokie…. Tamoko, there, that was it. Tamoko. Do you think she'd be honour-bound to help me? Probably not. I do have her former lord's blade somewhere around here, or I did… horrid thing, but a fascinating study. It still has something of my dear brother fused within it; a living echo, almost. I wonder if it could be bound with his spirit, a sort of soul trap. Could you do such a thing?"

"I am forbidden–"

"To interfere, yes, but Sarevok is dead, by my hand, is he not? Hardly interfering to simply bring back whatever's left of him. Is there anything left of him? I can hardly imagine that there wouldn't be."

From one side, Imoen sighed loudly.

Chąŕnǟmë made a point to ignore her. "But back to the topic at hand. Have we an accord? I will return your flash in exchange for the following: my comrades, my personal effects before being captured, the 'booty' I have liberated from my captor's lair and that which I have marked as my own, Sarevok's consort Tamoko, Sarevok's wraith, spirit, soul, placed within his sword, transport to a place of my choosing, and no repercussions from you, your kin, and I would very much like these acorns planted in the grove the dryads spoke of. Restore our wounds too, if you would: what do you think, Im, regeneration of the flesh? I think perhaps emotional trauma might be beyond his remit. Also, ensure you shroud us from means of scrying, magical and mundane, for as long as is permitted. Did I miss anything sis?"

"Treasure?" Imoen folded her arms. "You could demand anything."

"We had treasure, remember? Gems, gold, stuff. Oh, yes, a few bags of holding would be nice. I seem to recall only finding a couple on Tranzig…"

His sister's eyes rolled.

"So, djinn of the… lilac flask, do we have a deal?"

_Fin._


End file.
